Phantom
by Inylan Ledding
Summary: [ONE SHOT] Draco returns to the scene of a memory, a memory that haunts and tantalizes him. HD Based off scenes in the movie, not the book


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I know that the majority of you would much rather have the next chapter of Spellbound posted than a slew of one-shots, but hopefully the one-shots can tide you over a bit. Chapter Ten will be out shortly, the finishing details are being added. Than you all so much for nipping at my heels every time I get lazy, and thank you for being so patient. My fans rock! You all deserve chocolate covered Harry and Draco's. If any of you want to prod me into posting faster or getting little blips of the upcoming chapters, or just wanna talk, visit my LiveJournal: kickchick214. The fans who work more get more. Just ask Luba. J

Disclaimer: It's on FanFiction. I wonder what that means . . .

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Quiet footsteps crunched over the hardened snow, stealthily heading towards the barbed wire fence that barred the frozen path. One leather-gloved hand grasped the twisted wire between two barbs. Cold seeped through the glove, freezing the hand inside.

Draco scanned the snowy clearing around him. All was silent; for this afternoon, he had ordered Crabbe and Goyle to amuse themselves while he went off alone. It was the first winter Hogsmeade weekend, and Draco wanted privacy while he relived a memory that no other soul shared, save one.

In the distance was the dim figure of the Shrieking Shack, blurred by billowing snowflakes. Draco smiled, remembering everything about that one day, four years ago, engraved flawlessly upon his mind.

He could remember, dimly, approaching Ron and Hermione as they stood upon this path, directly where he was standing now. He didn't remember what words had escaped his mouth. They were dull and superfluous, another belittling insult to add to his endless archive.

Maneuvering towards to edge of the wood, Draco imagined he could feel the initial impact of the snowball collide with his padded back once again, and turning, he glanced in the direction that the weapon had come from. Each year, like the year before, the space was empty.

Following the path a bit further, Draco felt the tug of the woolen scarf on his neck as if it had happened yesterday, the sense of the world spinning around him as an invisible force swung him around like a rag doll.

Surprisingly, Draco felt no emotion, no anger, no humiliation at the embarrassment these actions had caused him. An almost nonexistent smile played at the corners of his lips, and he walked further on down the path.

Here lay the memory that drew him back each year. Lying down in the cold snow, Draco removed his gloves, trailing his fingers over the packed surface until he came to the soft powder beneath. Here was where the invisible entity had brought him, dragging him by his feet until he came to a stop.

An audible hitch in Draco's breath could be heard as he closed his eyes, remembering the way a soft, unseen hand had caressed his frozen cheek, trailing down to a pale chin and tilting the sharp, frightened face upwards. A kiss was planted on the trembling lips, gentle and tender, sending Draco into a state of pure ecstasy.

The Slytherin recalled reaching upwards to press his attacker closer, but seizing nothing. Through his mind ran the memory of jumping to his feet and dashing off through the forest, Crabbe and Goyle on his heels.

Draco wasn't naïve. He knew who had kissed him, he knew who his heart had belonged to for the past four years. He rarely admitted the fact to himself, and never to another living soul. So each year he came back, alone, to relive the one memory that held sway over him. Spending the entire day at the cliff, Draco hoped, even though the chance was slim, that maybe the phantom that had stolen his heart would appear.

For three years now, there was no sign. This was the last chance Draco would have to face his attacker. And once again, it seemed as if the phantom would stay a phantom.

Heading back through the wood, Draco once again scanned the area for any hint of another presence. None was visible, that the sharp gray eyes could find.

Suddenly, the atmosphere of the clearing altered. Draco sensed an approaching presence, and, his senses perceiving every change in the air, hid behind a wide oak.

Though no visible being came into view, seconds later impressions in the snow ran parallel to Draco's own footsteps heading down the path. Pausing, they turned several degrees and continued towards Draco.

Draco pressed himself to the tree, anxious to see who the phantom was, yet afraid. He closed his eyes, his mouth dry in anticipation.

He heard the crunching footsteps halt, the brush of fabric on snow, and the tentative step forward. Heat radiated off the body, each wave absorbed by Draco's frozen skin. Warm, moist breath ghosted over the pale features as a hand reached forward and stroked the blonde's cheek, tracing a path down his face until it reached his chin, tilting the face in the same manner as before.

At the first tentative brush of lips, Draco felt a jolt, as if a vital part of him had fallen into place. He reached out, eyes closed as before, to touch the entity that was now wrapping one arm around his waist, pulling him closer, threading fingers through his platinum hair. Draco's mouth opened in invitation, and a warm tongue wasted no time in claiming it, declaring its ownership. Draco slid one arm around the neck of this anonymous lover, arcing himself forward until there was no excessive space between them.

Draco felt the body slowly disentangle itself from his grasp, though one hand was left gripping his shoulder. He shuddered at the sudden loss of heat, but remained stationary.

"Draco," he heard the low, soothing voice say, "open your eyes."

Draco obeyed, his own eyes locking with the sharp emerald green that hovered centimeters from him. He swallowed hard, his heart beating quickly, the blood pounding in his ears.

"Harry," he said simply. "You came."

"A criminal always returns to the scene of the crime." Harry moved towards the fence, motioning for Draco to follow. The two boys fell into step, strolling in a companionable silence.

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't come." Draco saw Harry shake his head slightly, a grin playing with his lips. "Four years is a long time, Potter."

"Yet it passes so quickly, doesn't it?" Harry turned to Draco. "We'll be leaving in a few months."

"It isn't enough time," Draco said heavily.

"For what?" Harry asked. "A lot can happen in half of a year."

"Things will start to pick up, they'll rush together and blur until summer term is over, and then we'll never see each other again." Draco rested against a wooden post supporting the barbed wire fence. "It will all go so fast."

"And?" Harry challenged, standing in front of Draco. "Isn't something better than nothing?" When Draco didn't answer, Harry pressed on. "Tell me you don't come here every year wearing the exact same outfit as you did that one day because you wish that what happened between us could be real, and I'll let you go."

"How . . . What . . ." Draco stammered. "You've never been here."

Harry laughed a mirthless laugh, one hand raking through his raven locks. "You forget, Draco, how I kissed you in the first place."

Draco raised an eyebrow in question, and Harry nodded. "So you've been watching me since fourth year, but you never had the courage to show yourself?"

Harry took Draco's gloved hand and removed the glove, stowing the buttery leather in his pocket. "No, Draco, I haven't shown myself to you," he admitted, twining his fingers with the blonde's. "I wasn't ready."

"And the Boy-Who-Lived finally admits incompetence," Draco drawled, smirking. The smirk widened as Harry shot him a dirty look. "Why weren't you ready?"

"I was unstable, Draco. I couldn't control half of my actions, I was rash, and most of all, emotionally immature. I didn't want to ruin the one thing I desired by not being able to shoulder the responsibility before I was ready." Piercing emerald was reflecting in shimmering gray, and Draco saw the honesty in his gaze.

Draco placed one hand gently on Harry's shoulder. "Are you ready now?"

In response, Harry closed the distance between them once again, initiating the sweetest, most passionate kiss Draco had ever experienced. He encircled the Gryffindor's waist with his arms, losing himself in the protection and security of Harry.

Needless to say, both boys returned to Hogwarts well past curfew that night.


End file.
